


Love Story

by imaginary_witness



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 10:04:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14767511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginary_witness/pseuds/imaginary_witness
Summary: While the two young earls sleep, their butlers pass the night away in a rivalry of music that creates such a sweet harmony they are almost compelled to become friends...just for this night. [One hit/First Kuroshitsiju]





	Love Story

**Author's Note:**

> Ratings: G  
> Warnings: None.  
> Genre: Angst, Friendship  
> Originally Published: September 31, 2014 (Fanfiction.net)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own the characters in this story: living (or passed) human beings or fictional characters. These events never happened, according to history or as the original author intended them. This is a work of fiction and is not intended to offend. For entertainment purposes only. Thanks.
> 
> Author's Notes: I was listening to classical music and an inspiration dawned on me as I listened this duet. It is called "Where Do I Begin?" from the 1970's movie Love Story; the version I was listening to is available on YouTube; search: "Love Story (Piano & Violin Duet)" by IMayBeMistaken
> 
> This is my first Kuroshitsiju piece, so I apologize in advance if the characters are ...outofcharacter. :) Reviews are always welcome.

The night was young. The fog that slowly began drifting through the air was tinted dark by the shallow residing clouds that marred the starless sky's perfection. A golden sliver of the moon was visible, though only at moments when the clouds cleared, chased by a gentle wind blowing to the east, which was attempting to take all objects willing to drift along with it. There was little movement, asides from the breeze, the last sinking rays of the setting sun fought to cast a lightness in the adolescent darkness.

The isolated manor blended into the encroaching darkness, welcoming it as an old friend to hide away with. The trees and gardens swayed with the wind, their branches and flowers, the sinister roses and mysterious bluebells, all pulled away from their homes to be swept away. Yet they were stubbornly kept by their roots from the dance. The building itself was unaffected by the affectionate gust, standing tall and proud against the overcast sky and the shadowy mountains. The windows and doors were all secured and shut tight, in order to keep the human inhabitants safe. No lights were visible from the windows, and all was seemingly quiet from the distance across the drawbridge, which was currently stowed away so neither mortal could enter, nor leave, the manor.

Inside the manor, two boys slept; so close they were that they resembled fraternal twins, having shared the same stories, memories, and pains. Yet, the two boys looked nothing like the other. One was dark haired and pale. His right eye was covered with a black eye-patch, but his left was a deep ocean blue. The other boy was platinum blonde, with light sky blue eyes and slender features. While he appeared more physically mature, the dark-haired boy seemed more ominous. Despite being dressed in their day-clothing, the two nobles were sprawled rather untidily on the large bed, curled in unnatural closeness to their opposite, lost in their dream-states alike. The youngest of the pair was curled facing downwards, gripping the pillow in a tight fist and scowling, whereas the eldest was lying on his back with one hand curled over his waist and the other grabbing at the beddings below him. His eyes were scrunched shut and his mouth was pulled in a grimace. Both were seemingly facing images that they were either not proud of or greatly wounded by, and still they were spellbound by their exhaustion to be haunted by these images until they could find the door to their consciousness.

As the boys slept soundly, all be it disturbed, the other servants of the manor continued onwards with their day. Seizing an opportunity not to be wasted, the youngest of the servants gathered around a brightly lit fire in the kitchens to play a game of cards against each other. Their lilac hair identified the trio as brothers, and they spoke in soft, hushed, whispers to each other, in spite of being left alone. In another room, a maid with a long silvery braid was busy dusting off the shelves and changing the bedspread. Whenever she got the chance, she would peak into the room in which the boys slept, her face softened by their obvious pain yet comforted by their unconscious partnership. The phantom of a young boy dashed past her, and her eyes averted to follow him, watching as his curly brown hair disappeared down the staircase. She left the door to the boys' room open and followed after her own ghost in silent acceptance.

Not far from where the boys slept, their butlers sat in the parlour, each having prepared the next day's worth for their young masters. One sat, with his spectacles perched rather low on his nose, passing thread around itself with a small, silver hook. The other stood at the window, watching the outside world unfolding itself into a display of chaos.

Outside the winds were turning to gales and violently clung to the flowers and branches, tearing them from their homes. Small animals cried out from their dens in the dirt or their homes against the tree trunks. And with the last rays of the sun having faded, the low lying clouds turned menacing, becoming great, black swirls that began to shower the earth aggressively.

The butler let lacy curtain fall back into place, turning from the window, having seen enough of the disorder occurring outside. He sighed and his eyes met those of the butler crocheting; both were tired, mentally stressed over their current situation rather than physically worn down, and annoyed at having to share in the other person's presence and hospitality. No words were exchanged, and yet both butlers seemed to tire of their present tasks at the same time. One set aside his doily and the other turned to the bookcase.

Lying across the bottom shelf, uncharacteristically stored, was a small black case, rounded at both ends and uneven in width. The second butler took this case and stood, taking it with him to a side table, where he unlaced the casing and withdrew the instrument from inside. He lifted carefully the bow out and twisted the gear so the horsehair would pull taunt, careful not to make it too tight. The first butler had already risen and moved from his seat on the lavish sofa. Towards the eastern end of the room, behind his previous space, sat a rather large grand piano; it's black body sleek and shiny, and it's ivory keys seemingly untouched.

The butler brushed aside his tailcoat as he took his seat at the piano bench. He pushed his glasses up his nose and flex his fingers, pausing from his first activity to his second. The switch took no toil on his eternal body, but he enjoyed a certain air of control over his false displays. Having rosined the bow, the second butler lifted held the bow at arm's length in front of him, and rotated his wrist first left, then right. He scowled, but he didn't want to be caught being hypocritical by his ever-watchful bocchan. He lifted the bow upright and then made a wide circle with his elbow, rotating the elbow outwards and inwards, taking the bow close to him, then away. He didn't warm up as much as he forced his young master to when he taught him, but he had no real need for being careful of pulling a muscle or freezing up, as his human contractor might. He lifted the violin, dark mahogany, out of its' encasement. His eyes flashed a light purple, his pupils becoming vertical slits for the mere moment his eyes irises were rose-coloured, as he lifted the instrument with ease to his neck.

The first triad on the piano sang out from under white gloved fingers playing a mid-tone chord. As this first chord rang out, the violinist began: the notes were high and dragged out, resonating a sharp crescendo. The melody was soft and delicate, expressing a sorrowful passion. Behind the violin's notes, the piano kept time; slowly the keys pulled on the strings in the middle of the piano, creating a delicate baseline for the violin to soar across.

Behind his spectacles, the butler's eyebrow's rose in a look of disbelief. His eyes met those of the violinist, who had paused to glance at the pianist. His crescendo had risen to a faded cry and waned out to nothingness. The pianist smirked; his lips curling into a delicate, yet frothy, smile. Mockingly, he began to arpeggiate his chords, rising them upwards to a higher octave.

Not intimidated in the least, the second butler stepped forwards, advancing towards the piano, and began to run the bow along the strings of his violin once more. Soft notes poured forwards, warm notes from the bass of the violin. The piano underneath was no competition for the strings of the smaller instrument, easily being drowned out by the lead melody. Though, the deeper tones of the piano created a solid foundation for the violin to solo; with the bass chords being broken into singular notes, played as a measure, the piano became an essential time-keeper for the violinist, and the two instruments became a harmonious duet.

The pianist glared over the top of his keys, meeting the eyes of the violinist. To his surprise, the auburn eyes radiated with warmth, not challenge as he had expected, and the man's pale lips were drawn upwards into a soft smile. Behind his square frames, the pianist's own eyes widened; a fear masked by confusion was evident in them, and as their piece proceeded, with the piano ascending and the violin strings being rocked back and forth softly, buzzing with a vibrato so gentle it complimented the piano's sudden dominance, the pianist's golden eyes softened with a tender acceptance to their sudden duet.

The piano began mirroring the violin, softly echoing several high notes the violin expressed in a descending manner. As the violin's notes became extended and more anguished, the piano took charge. Becoming faster and more melodic, the keys were played to their fullest, the tremolos diving up and down the ivory slate. And then the piano became the solo instrument; the violin softly rang out in the background, occasionally buzzing, and leaving the piano to lead.

The pianist looked up to find the second butler's eyes closed, his body moving to support the instrument and feel the passion of the music. The first butler smiled to himself, watching, drinking in the moment. His thoughts vaguely, and very briefly, drifted to his young master, asleep in his bedroom; his blonde hair would be messy from lying and tossing his head back and forth while in dreams, and his sweet blue eyes would be shut with his pale lids, that seemed to have a lavender tint to them in the mornings.

A rest, a very brief rest, and then the violin overrode the piano once more. The notes were smoothly delivered, but the agony in them was unnerving. The first butler was surprised that a demon could be creating these sounds of torment and despair from an instrument. He looked up at his rival, at the man known as Sebastian Michaelis, with a new respect that he hadn't felt compelled to spare for him before.

Sebastian himself was lost in the music, his fingers constantly moving along the violin's neck, his wrist constantly angling so he may create the tones of bottomless, endless grief. His eyes were still shut, but he could feel around himself; the room was quiet, but undisturbed. Himself and Claude were the only inhabitants, and Claude was still playing the piano, captivated by the music; though he wasn't sure for how long.

He opened his eyes a fraction of a second, his head tilted up, his wrist now sliding the bow erratically as the piano once more dominated the song with the higher keys; but only for a moment. He watched Claude, briefly, his golden eyes on the keys of the piano, playing with such an intensity it startled Sebastian.

The bass keys of the piano took over, the triad broken to mirror the melody. The violinist simply provided a background melody of pain and anguish, that the piano now emulated, taking the torment further. The keys were hit harder than before, the pressure heavy yet quick, and their tones echoed the pressure of the emotion that the violin had created.

Sebastian kept his timing slower, quieter, so that Claude may release his emotions into their song. The piano's pace seemed to double, but the timing had not change. Claude had simply began to play more notes, accentuating the song with points of focus for the pain to travel to. He hit a high note and Sebastian could not resist any longer. His notes suddenly came fast and strong, ascending suddenly and then taking total control over the melody. The piano was suddenly the foundation of the pain and the violin poured forth agony that Sebastian had never been able to understand from his human contractors.

He backtracked the song, pulling his notes back, and his eyes met with Claude's once more. They seemed to rival through their music, as they always did, yet they somehow had found a balance. As Sebastian underlined his melody, giving the tune the descent it needed, Claude's riffs filled the empty moments, arpeggiated chords that made his hands seem to suddenly fly up and down the ivory keys before returning to the hammering chords that had brought the painful cries of the violin to ease.

Sebastian's hands were the opposite, his wrist slowly dragging out each measure's end, until finally, he dragged out a perfect end for the melody. Sensing that the song was coming to an end, Claude slowed his pace and turned to pinching the keys, tapping them lightly to fade the piano away just as softly, just as sweetly, as the violin diminished.

Sebastian let the violin down, holding it beside his body, the bow resting against his shoulder. He stared at Claude, who sat with his hands resting on the piano keys, head bowed. Both butlers were lost in a mutual silence, struggling with trying to understand what they just created out of their jealousy. All at once, Claude looked up and fixed one of his white gloves, pulling it further down his wrist. The only sound to be heard was the rain, though it was muted by the vastness of the manor.

"How did you put such emotion into music?"

Sebastian smiled and turned to put the violin away. He lay it in the case and began to unwind the bow, letting the strings relax.

"I was thinking of humanity." he admitted.

Claude stood from the piano but never left his position.

"Your young master?"

"No." Sebastian was glad his back was to Claude. "All humans. Most humans."

"I don't understand you."

"Where did you find the emotion you put into your piece?"

"From my resentment to you."

The pair both smirked. Claude fixed his glasses, pushing them further up his nose from where they had slid down, and Sebastian turned so that he could face Claude.

Neither of them notice the young boy at the door; his feet bare and his shirt untucked from sleep. His pale hair was unbrushed, and much of it was brushed over his face. His light blue eyes had tears for the music, yet he could feel in the atmosphere that he shouldn't cross the threshold.

It was the music that had woken him, the calling of the violin against the grace of the piano, which had broken through to his conscious and stirred him from his bed. He was pleased to find Ciel Phantomhive by his side, but Alois Trancy had taken the sound to be meant for him, in his own unusual way.

He had rose from his bed, his boots and socks were removed, but he simply didn't bother to find them. The song was passing by much too fast, and the rising crescendos would mean he would miss the players if he wasn't quick enough.

From his position crouched on the floor, he watched as his butler and Phantomhive's challenged each other for dominance of the song. In the end all they created was a beautiful harmony, a mess that was so sweet it was hard to resist yearning to stay frozen in place and listen forever. His eyes widened as he watched the butlers, both turn away from each other and then face each other once more. In his mind he could imagine the swords they would hold: Claude with his long-sword held in front of him, Sebastian with a cutlass, more traditionally posed with an arm over his head and his sword pointed outwards. Alois yearned for them to begin their duel, but he knew deep down that the swords never existed to begin with. As Alois though, if they were both not interested in Ciel Phantomhive's soul, their rivalry would not be so bitter.

Sebastian smiled and bowed, amazing the Trancy butler. Not wanting to be outdone, Claude bent forwards too. Alois smiled, drinking it in. When he was dead, he was sure he would remember the feelings he held in this moment, for they were pure and charming; reminding him of his younger brother and the innocence they had shared.

Sebastian heard a noise, one that seemed strikingly similar to a young boy sigh, and his head snapped to the direction of the door. His first thought was towards his young master, though indeed, he was positive the young earl Phantomhive would never make such a sound. As he turned, Claude turned as well, and walked forwards to the door. He smirked as he took in the small figure hiding there, blocked from their view as he angled himself to hide behind the sofa.

Alois fell back and landed on his rear, a small fall from his curled position. Somehow he had been detected, and now he was being drawn into the moment.

To his surprise, his butler reached out with both hands and lifted him from beneath his armpits as if he were a smaller child.

"My young master," Claude whispered to him, but Alois knew he voice would carry to the other demon butler in the room.

"What are you doing out of bed, bocchan?"

Alois smiled, thrilled that the closeness he had shared with Claude in their earlier days of contraction seemed to resurface. He smiled, all thoughts of behaving sexually alluring banished; the air of innocence expanding to encircle him as well.

It caught him unaware that Sebastian was smiling as he sighted him from over Claude's shoulder. Claude followed his gaze and set Alois down on his feet, turning to stare at Sebastian as well.

Alois assessed the situation, reading the room and tasting the atmosphere. He hesitated to take a step forward and surprised the Phantomhive butler with a hug, reaching around his waist and burying his face in his torso.

Sebastian felt awkward being held such; his own master would never dream to touch his butler in such a way, and the typical no-contact rule had become expected between himself and others. Still, the embrace stirred feeling in the demon's chest, and he knew that the meaning behind it was well-intended. He smiled, feeling self-conscious as he patted Alois's shoulder unsurely.

Claude permitted himself a smile, not wanting to laugh outright in case it would hurt Alois's feelings. The look of surprise on his equal's face was comical, to say the least.

For just one moment the rivalry that existed between the Phantomhive and Trancy households was at a standstill. Somehow, during their performance, the butlers had reached an equal standing, and the enjoyment it created for one young master at least was enough to tame them both into serenity.

"Thank you," Alois whispered. He knew that Claude would hear him, despite his efforts, but he tried to speak only to the Phantomhive butler.

This puzzled Sebastian more so. He raised his eyebrows and looked down at the young Trancy boy.

"Whatever are you thanking me for, Master Trancy?"

Alois smiled eagerly, the look of youthfulness spreading across his face.

"For this moment."

Both butlers smiled at each other over Alois's shoulder. Come dawn, they both knew, they would have to go back to being enemies; the battle over the delicious soul of Ciel Phantomhive hadn't come to an end just yet.

Sebastian looked at Alois with a sorrow in his eyes and thought of all the agony he had put into the song.

'All that agony will be his now,' he thought to himself, 'in a matter of the forthcoming days.'

For Claude to leave Alois, it would mean unhappiness for the young boy. But for the butler to stay, faithful to his master, it would mean his own unhappiness. There was equal balance for the pairing.

Sebastian frowned and thought of his own young master, lying asleep in a different room. 'He would be glad to have it all end by my lips.' he thought, 'and I would be glad to consume him.'

It is the pitiful, tragic life of a demon, he reminded himself. He didn't have to look at Claude to know the thought was in his mind as well. Their competition turned composition was proof enough of that.

"Come now, young master Trancy," Sebastian rubbed hands along Alois's arms. "Let's get you back to bed now, shall we?"

He smiled, his dazzling smile, and Alois was once more thrown into awe with the world around him.

"I was told you were fairies before I spoke to Claude." he told Sebastian, enthusiastically.

"Oh, did you now?"

Claude smiled and watched as Sebastian's eyes went wide, his expression emphasized to amuse the child as he led him out of the room.

The rain had ceased outside, and the skies had turned a pale grey as the sliver of the moon resurfaced from behind the clouds. Claude picked up his doily, adding several loops to the thread, turning the web so he could eventually finish his design. His young master was safe, he was sure; Sebastian Michaelis would never hurt Alois Trancy, not when he knew he would be agonized enough without his help.

Through the open door Claude caught a glance at Hannah, walking with her basket of laundry by the parlour. She had drifted by like a ghost, silent and expressionless, yet Claude knew she was following Sebastian leading Alois to his room. 'Ever watchful Hannah,' Claude smirked, 'it seems that even demons have their own demons.'

The night was still. The fog seemed to glow ghostlike along the edges of the manor, and over the grounds, illuminated by the yellow moon. The wind continues its path east, but not as violently as before. There was no noise or movement. Everywhere creatures began to drift to sleep, safe once more from the storm.

The isolated manor stood against the delicate backdrop of gray, as if it weren't sure of if it truly belonged or not to this world. The trees and gardens played with the wind, resting after their fight for survival. The building itself was unaffected what had just occurred, seeming to have focused all its strength into protecting the fragile moment occurring inside itself.

Inside the manor, two boys slept; one having just been put back to bed. Unlike other boys, these children weren't afraid of monsters under the bed, their fears were of the monsters they had grown to rely on and love leaving them. Claude and Hannah had come to join Sebastian standing in the doorway and observing the two frail humans. With pity in their emotions, they felt the difference between themselves and the boys and how vastly unbalanced that difference was. Sebastian smiled, humoured by the young blonde.

"You are lucky to have met him," he whispered to no one in particular, but the butler beside him swelled with pride.

"He is indeed an elegant soul."

With their guardians so near, both young nobles seemed at peace. One tugged the corner of his pillow, the other the sheet. The wind blew by the manor, leaving the inhabitants untouched, and Sebastian led Claude and Hannah back to the parlour to await their young masters rising.


End file.
